Community Altar December 2018 – Winter Solstice
Tonight, the world is dark.
As I light this candle,
Its light inspires me
To see myself more clearly,
To know myself better,
To love myself more wholly,
That I live happy, healthy, whole, and holy.
Tonight, the world is dark.
As I light this candle,
Its light inspires me
To see others more clearly,
To know them better,
To love them more wholly,
And help them to live happy, healthy, whole, and holy.
As the light returns,
I see the world more clearly,
And know what my part is
In the restoration
Of the heart of the world.
Pelicans in December
~ J. Allyn Rosser
One can’t help admiring
their rickety grace
and old-world feathers
like seasoned boardwalk planks.
They pass in silent pairs,
as if a long time ago
they had wearied of calling out.
The wind tips them, their
ungainly, light-brown weight,
into a prehistoric wobble,
wings’-end fingers stretching
from fingerless gloves,
necks slightly tucked and stiff,
peering forward and down,
like old couples arm in arm
on icy sidewalks, careful,
careful, mildly surprised
by how difficult it has become
to stay dignified and keep moving
even after the yelping gulls have gone;
even after the scattered sand,
and the quietly lodged complaints.
Why Are Your Poems so Dark?
~ Linda Pastan
Isn’t the moon dark too,
most of the time?
And doesn’t the white page
seem unfinished
without the dark stain
of alphabets?
When God demanded light,
he didn’t banish darkness.
Instead he invented
ebony and crows
and that small mole
on your left cheekbone.
Or did you mean to ask
“Why are you sad so often?”
Ask the moon.
Ask what it has witnessed.
Bread and Stars
~ Oktay Rifat
translated from the Turkish by Sidney Wade and Efe Murad
Bread is in my lap,
Stars are far, far away.
I am eating bread looking at the stars.
I am so engrossed, don’t even ask—
Sometimes I get mixed up and instead of bread
I eat stars.
